Thursday, September 22, 2005

Homo-Dopeic

A moment happened earlier this evening at Dialysis that was one half laughable, one quarter ridiculous and dipped fully in a big bowl of tangy surprise.

I was enjoying the most amazing reality show ever created by mankind: "America's Next Top Model."

If you have not witnessed this one hour train wreck of emotion and nakedness, it's created and hosted by Miss Tyra Banks.

I give Miss Banks some cred. She realized that as a model, your career has a terminal length and so you better plan for your future.

I don't even know if she models anymore, but with this show and her new talk show, she's becoming the new Oprah.

Oprah.

That has to be the funniest name in show bi-ness.

Starts with a vowel, ends with a dangling syllable.

Sounds obscene really.

"Lets Oprah baby."

Or slightly kinky.

"Does it feel good when I touch your Oprah?"

One of the funniest bits Letterman ever did was at the Oscars when Dave introcued Uma and Oprah.

I busted a gut for five continuous minutes while critics used keywods like "dopey" and "annoying" to describe the event.

Actually, that's how local media critics describe my radio show, but Dave's my hero so it all ends up making sense.

But back to Tyra Banks.

The latest edition of America's Next Top Model (Wednesday nights on UPN) was a two hour blast of a premiere. Hot model wannabees in bikini's. Girl-on-girl making out. Confessions of lesbianism.

Add all those events together and you've got ratings gold, as goons in my industry like to say.

The show came back from commercial and I mentioned to the babeish Filipino Dialysis tech how much I adore short-haired women in bikini's (there are three on this season's show...Stacy heaven!)

As she was writing down the nearby patient's blood pressure reading, she said, "It's confirmed then."

I was stymied.

"Excuse me?"

She is one of my favorite tech's with her deep brown eyes and long straying raven hair, but this threw me for a loop.

"Hold on. Don't walk away. What do you mean 'it's confirmed'?"

"That you like women."

As I barrel back through the pages of my memory, I remember that my first month at the clinic I ASKED THIS VERY SAME TECH OUT TO DINNER.

"You're telling me that I set off your gaydar?"

"Well, you're thirty five and still single."

I wanted to hop out of my chair and wring her pretty little neck.

When did society state that if you're thirty-five and still unmarried you're automatically gay??

I'm odd, strange, geekish to the core and have been on Dialysis for a year and a half now. Why would I ask anyone I cared for to put up with my crap? Why would I expect them to console me week after week when Dialysis steals my personality and uses it for toilet paper? Who in their right mind would want to endure a mid-thirties failure?

The answer is: no one.

I adore every subtle nuance of the female form but I will not push my health situation on anyone, especially not someone I care for.

This is why I'm sometimes grateful my family members all live in ajoining states, because I have enough guilt shoving their time from the past away dealing with my illness.

So let's recap, shall we??

I'm single, thirty-five years old, never been married and have a feminine name.

Thus, according to present societal rules, I'm gay. And a loser.

One day I will find the woman of my dreams, she'll see past the bandages and the dopey stare and we'll live happily ever after.

Until then, I'll just have to put up with the homodopes.

Thank you and good night.

4 comments:

  1. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

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  2. Hello,
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  3. Okay, it's time for me to suggest you use the word verification thing on your comment posting as well. I already told Devorah, and I had to myself. I loathe spam comments, I really do. Now, on to the point...you are many things, but a "failure," "loser," and "dopey" are not on the list. "Brilliant," "genuinely caring and considerate," and "fabulous smart ass" are, however.

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  4. Where we all end at the conclusion of this reality is based upon which proverbial "fork in the road" we choose to take. What makes selecting Marriage Avenue any better or worse than Single Court? What makes Radio DJ Boulevard any better or worse than Home Depot Cashier Street? Be happy and content with what you do, the laughter you bring, the comments you make, and the fact you make those around you think. You are, thankfully, Stacy, and if anyone has any smart-ass comment to make about who you are, may unpleasantness cloud his or her future. So long, and good night.

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